


There is Always The Two Of Us

by asmaanixx



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, mentions of suicidal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmaanixx/pseuds/asmaanixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slight spoilers for "The Abominable Bride"</p>
<p>A lot of musings. There was no fixed direction for this piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is Always The Two Of Us

"Dead."

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock questioned his partner, not quite certain as to how this comment came into existence.

"I had asked you not to be dead." John clarified himself.

"And considering that I am standing before you, I will say I have listened quite nicely to you." Sherlock closed his eyes once more, resuming his meditation.

"Because of Moriarty. If it weren't for his apparent arrival, you would have killed yourself." John remarked.

"Oh don't be silly, John. I would never take such a drastic action."

"Yes, you have."

"To fool you."

"Twice." John asserted, dismissing Sherlock's statement. "You overdosed."

"Once." Sherlock reminded.

"No." John dragged out the word. "Once from the rooftop, once from the plane."

"Once from the cabbie, and once by fame." Sherlock added.

John kept quiet for a moment as he processed Sherlock's words.

_He's right._

"How can you do this?" John asked quietly, from the comforts of his chair.

"Do what?" Sherlock asked, with his eyes still closed.

"You want to go chase after Death, fine. You want to go and pleasure yourself by knowing that you have outsmarted every living being, every living entity; every thought, every idea - you have it all figured out. Fine! Go ahead and do that." John's voice was becoming increasingly louder while his breaths were becoming shorter. "But for Heaven's sake don't drag me into this."

Sherlock opened his eyes.

"You seek danger just as much as I do. I don't know why you're frailing about right now John. You have known how I operate from our very first case."

"Yes, but I didn't have quite that many priorites then, now did I?" John reminded him.

"I know very well you're married John. You don't need to keep reminding me every opportunity you receive." Sherlock spat out.

"Sherlock, you need to be more cautious. Fooling us all into believing you were dead was one thing. But overdosing yourself, becoming so lost in your mind that you are unable to discern fiction from reality? That is not-"

"Healthy? I very well know that John. But that is how I think."

"NO, that is not how you think. That is how you run away." John exclaimed, getting out of his chair and standing before Sherlock. "Displacing yourself to the point where you no longer begin to recognize yourself is how your method of not facing the truth."

"And what truth would that be? Hmm?" Sherlock questions, getting out of the sofa and towering over John. "Since you have apparently gotten inside of my mind, please do tell me how I think and I feel."

"You couldn't face it." John stated with a stern smile and glossy eyes. "You couldn't face the fact that we will no longer see each other."

"Oh please!" Sherlock swatted John away and walked towards the fireplace. "We've been apart for two years! And you haven't been in my life for far longer than that."

"Is that why you felt the need to make yourself high? To say a goodbye?" John questioned Sherlock, following him. "Even at the rooftop. You couldn't face me. You had to say your goodbye, leave your 'note' through a phone call. You had to maintain that distance from me so that it wasn't real."

"Of course it wasn't real. It was all set up!" Sherlock exclaimed, dismissing John's argument.

He turned away once and took a few more steps.

"Then explain the overdose Sherlock!" John demanded. "Explain to me, explain to this imbecile as to why the great Sherlock Holmes felt the need to drug himself just so that he could say goodbye to his best friend."

Sherlock swallowed and blinked his eyes, refusing to meet John's gaze.

"You created versions of me Sherlock." John spoke quietly. "Of all of us." He generically swept his arm across the empty room. "We all exist in a manner that surpasses flesh and blood for you. We have personalities, ambitions, desires, fears, and courageousness. You have characterized us in a manner that is so elevated while you have degraded yourself."

"I have not." Sherlock snapped.

"Then why have you picturized yourself as being alone? As being someone who is incapable of feeling love?"

"Because I am not." Sherlock replied.

"I would argue otherwise." John retorted. "You have kept me around. You have kept Mrs. Hudson. Molly, your brother, Lestrade, Mary, even Anderson. We were all a part of your drug-induced dream because we are the people that matter the most to you. In whichever version Sherlock Holmes exists, you find it essential to have some versions of us around." John remarked.

"There's always the two of us." Sherlock murmured underneath his breath, remembering the statement his imaginary John Watson had spoke.

"Sherlock, I wish that you would just stop being so alone. Stop thinking of yourself as you are alone when you are not. You have people that care and love you so immensely. It really would my, our, hearts, if anything were to happen to you." John spoke.

Sherlock kept staring out the window, with his hands folded neatly behind his back.

He heard John's sigh and then his retreating steps as he walked out of the room.

Sherlock knows this is clearly not how John had wished the conversation to go. Heck, he had felt the awkward manner in which the conversation had begun. It was not the correct nor the appropriate method to do so. But in his own quirky manner, John had gotten to the heart of the matter: Sherlock's loneliness.

John assumes Sherlock is alone. In the premise of relationships, of intimate bondings, Sherlock supposes he is. There is nothing tangible like John's marriage that Sherlock can utilize to quench John's worries. But Sherlock cannot dwell on these subject matters. They not only distract him from broadening his horizons, but also prevent him from utilizing his mind to its full ability. He cannot be distracted by the enthusiasm that John shares whenever Sherlock makes a discovery which should have been so obvious to all else. Or the manner in which John constantly rebukes and scolds Sherlock for his drug-intake. He can't allow himself to care about the fact that John cares. About him.

John cares about him.

_Well of course he does. He's an emotional fool that thinks primarily with his heart. He's bound to worry about you._

Sherlock tries to reason out his conflicting thoughts. John cannot invade his mind any more than he already has. It is imperative that Sherlock keeps John separated from his thought processes. He cannot allow himself to become so wrapped in him...

_Is that why you invented a whole different version of him? His mind argued. A version where he primarily writes about you? Protects you from danger? Cares for you enough to ask about your sexual endeavours? Enough to question you why you are so alone?_

"Stop that!" Sherlock exclaimed out loud, turning away from the window.

_Funny how you allowed the imaginary Dr. Watson to have a conversation with you but wouldn't dare let the real one._

"Oh please! I was eagerly waiting for the murderous ghost to come and get me rather than engage with Watson in that conversation."

_Why? Why are you so afraid of confronting the fact that you are alone?_

"I am not!" Sherlock rebuked.

_Are you afraid that it is true? You hadn't expected John to move on from you, did you? To find himself a woman, and settle down. To get married and have a happy life._

Sherlock seated himself in the chair by the fireplace.

_No. You had expected him to continue waiting for you. To keep mourning you and grieving over your dead body. To have his heart keep breaking into millions of pieces while you were out there saving the world. Who cares if John hurts as long as the great Sherlock Holmes does not feel an emotion. As long as his cold stone remains as is, that's all that matters._

"That is enough!" Sherlock exclaimed with a definite shout. "I do care. I do care that John is so worried about me. I do care that he had to mourn the loss of a friend when he was really alive. I do care that I was unable to comfort him and announce my existence to him. I do care for the fact that I was placed in yet again, another situation where I had to be separated from him. Of course I had to drug myself to say goodbye. How can I possibly say goodbye to him? To my friend, my only friend. The one man who did not consider me a freak upon first meeting me. The one man who came to share a flat with me for so many years. The one man who began to accompany me on a multitude of cases. Became my partner, my colleague, my companion. How can I say goodbye to him? How do I say goodbye? Being in a drug induced state would undoubtedly make the last meeting seem unreal because it can't be."

There was a long pause before Sherlock spoke again.

"I have come to realize that there is one thing that Sherlock Holmes cannot do." Sherlock spoke into the empty air. "Sherlock Holmes simply cannot say goodbye to John Watson."  
Sherlock stared into the fire place, not daring to glance at the empty chair before him.

"There is always the two of us." 

A door clicked open.


End file.
